Life, 1920-10-14 · page 14 of 44
Life — October 14, 1920 — page 14: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains essays and verses about golf, particularly Scottish golf culture. The main illustration depicts two golfers—a "Pretty Golfer" (woman) and "The Gentleman Golfer" (man)—with dialogue about her hitting him during play. The article "Golf,—Why Scotch?" argues that Scotland is golf's birthplace and explores why Scots pursue the sport so passionately, attributing it to thrift and economy—getting "maximum result from minimum expenditure." The accompanying verses ("Company," "The Good Old Days") mock golfers' obsession with the sport and nostalgic reminiscence about past crop failures. A small cartoon at bottom shows golfers at a "sink golf tournament," with a caption joking that one player "hasn't missed a hole yet." The satire targets golf's cultural prominence and players' singular devotion to it.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Pretty Golfer: peax me! The Gentleman Golfer: vox't we VM AFRAID L HIT YOU, 1 HOPE I DIDN'T HURT YOU. ALARMED, MADAM; YOU CAN GET THIS BALL OUT OF MY BACK WITH A COUPLE OF STROKES. Company |™ in a fairway to go mad, For round about me golfers shriek, And I can't understand, I'll add, The golfing cleck. My eyes get brassic when they broach That subject. Each one of the clan Just seems to me, on his approach, A bogey man I cannot foursome to be still, For they are under such a thrall That, lacking audience, they will Address the ball, What's that? You say you're weary too Of all this golfiac hot air? Comrade in pain, I welcome you— Just putter there! Berton Braley. The Good Old Days “CROP failures?" asked the oldtimer. “Yes, I've seen a few in my da In 1834 the corn crop was almost nothing. We cooked some for dinner, and my father ate fourteen acres of corn at one meal!” SCUSSION is the better part of valor Golf,—Why Scotch? ANY cities claimed to be the birth- place of Homer. There may be other claimants, but Scotland is the un- doubted birthplace of golf. By induction the scientist reaches his generalizations; by selection the artist achieves his descriptions, and by reflee- tion the metaphysician works back to his reasons, The scientist answers for us the question how, the artist gives us the what of things; the philosopher enlightens us as to the why of everything—the sum total of knowledge, modal, phenomenal and noumenal. By simple processes of reflection, one is able to answer, to his own satisfaction, the perennially green metaphysical ques- tions in regard to golf: Why Scotch? Why originate there rather than some- where else? Why be ardently pursued by Scots the world over, to their utter for- getfulness of the Shorter Catechism and tie Sabbath? It is the only game in which the princi- ple of economy is glorified. Thrift wins the day in golf. The smallest score gives the largest victory. Saving your strokes is the secret of the whole thing. To get the maximum of result from the minimum of expenditure, is the sole object. The only breach of this principle of thrift is in the drinks between whiles—in Scotland, of course; not in this sad ‘land, where aqua vitae has become aqua mortis, to the cter- nal injury of golf. Thrift alone makes golf popular with Scotchmen and other rillionaires. As a Scot, I am proud that, through pure rumination, I have discovered this terribly important metaphysice! truth. Here's to golf, in its native beverage— Golf, the Apotheosis of Thrift! D.H.W. First Bug (at the sink golf tourna- ment) HE MUST BE THE CHAMPION—HE MASN'T MISSED A HOLE YET comicbooks.com|